The Anchor is Made
by Pentaphobe
Summary: Stiles wants to help. That's all he's ever wanted to do. And he finally gets someone that can guide him in that direction. How will the others take the change? BAMF!Stiles.
1. Gloomy Sunday

Everything was going to the shitter.

Every decision anyone was making made one step forward or one step back. It was like the world was playing a game to see who would fall where. Which pieces, or people would be playing as the pawns or the players. Things were terribly at the moment and there was no way out of just yet. His mother found out in the most unconventional way that he was a werewolf. Gerald was still making demands even though he gave him what he want. It was like Scott couldn't win this one. He couldn't make this one out just yet and was coming a weight on him. Stiles had been silent after the commotion. And officially he knew that things weren't working well. Seeing as there was no where else to go, nothing else to do.. He saw Dr. Deaton. The man had done nothing but welcome him with open arms and heart, and bore his shoulder for the whimpers and whines that he gave. He didn't shed tears just yet. He had some strength left, but it was becoming a bit much for the teenager to bear on his own. Not even with the genius Stiles, who he needed to check on when he woke up. Because, Scott had been render out like a light was some herbal tea and a few ruffles to the top of his head.

Of course, after having him promise to stay while he slept in the more discreet parts of the office. Dr. Deaton told him, before five am he'd wake him up.

Nodding, he was sleep. And sleep was a welcoming lift till about three hours in.

That familiar jiggle of the front door of the Veterinarian Office's door rung. For one's sensitive hearing such as Scott, it was deafening in a time like this. He had came here to escape the turmoil. The heat that had been building for the past couple of days and evenings, it was becoming overwhelming. Scott wasn't at fault just wanting a place for peace and quiet. At least he was sure for now that everyone was in their beds safe at home. Gerald surely wouldn't be looking for him just yet. Here, he could sleep without having to face the disgust and distain in his mother's face. He'll just go home in the morning to get some clothes. Dr. Deaton said it was okay. From the front he heard the man in charge's voice.

"We're closed."

A shift of the swinging corner door nudged Scott from his sleep state. "I thought you wanted me to come down?" Her heard a female voice. Listening to them, he could tell majority of what was going on. His eyes were still closed. There was no real reason to open them. Not yet anyway. Dr Deaton finally spoke, "Oh, I do. I just didn't think you would come so quickly." The female voice was One that he didn't exactly recognize and his body was protesting for the possibility for more sleep in his curled up corner.

"Well, what's up? Why you call me? Is it about those slew of murders going on?"

"Yes, we have a candidate to be your subordinate." Another female voice itched his ears. This was more familiar. Like someone from one of the offices at school?

"Who?"

"There's a boy.. He's a bit different.. But I think you'll like him."

He heard foot steps trailing towards the living space that he was occupying. The soft hand from before he felt press and rub his head to his slumbers came once again. Those voices became little murmurs soon enough.

"You'll need to enroll into Beacon Hills School."

"Alright, that's fine."

A soft sigh came from Dr. Deaton before he continued, "I know your methods.. are unorthodox, but be patient with him."

"Still haven't told me his name."

As certain as he was sure this must be a dream and Scott felt himself drift back into the sleep realm, he was sure he heard Dr. Deaton say, "Stiles Stilinski."

* * *

D: Don't mind the unbetaness and shitty grammar. ;~;


	2. Judith

Today had been most trying.

He didn't know what to expect. Apparently it was his turn to see the shrink. The counselor, oh bless her soul may she help them have some semblance of good mental health. But, it was seriously doubted. All the shit that was going on. He couldn't expect any less than a F on mental health. Fuck that, they all were getting Zs. Nerves getting to him. Stiles begins to restring the mesh of his lacrosse stick while awaiting the session to start. Or more of, the lady to come back in. Ms. Morrell seemed sweet enough that she didn't mind his fidgeting. His mess of abnormally sparked movements and dancing eyes, not trying to show interest in all this.

The silence between them was deafening for Stile. He didn't know where to start again when she came back down and sat at her desk with her pleasant, but unreadable smile. He just began. Because, that's what Stiles does. He fills the silence.

"You know, when you're drowning you don't really inhale until right when you black-out." Straight to the point, he seemed to get her attention. Nearly, analytic honey brown eyes watching him with great interest as he fastened his mesh, working and twiddling his slender fingers. "It's called voluntary apnoea. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding. Then when you finally do let it in that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore, it's…it's actually kinda peaceful."

The Counselor barely moved besides to fold her hands against her suited stomach, "Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments?"

Stiles looked up at her with a big sigh. "I don't feel sorry for him." Curiously, the Counselor lifted her hand beneath her chin. "Can you feel sorry for the nine year old Matt who drowned?"

He shuffled the lacrosse stick in his lap and moved it about. No, in a way he couldn't. He had faced the working of lack of recognition, registration when he was bullied a few times. "Just because a bunch of dumbasses dragged him into a pool when he couldn't swim doesn't really give him the right to go off killing 'em one by one." Things may haven't in his favor or people were douchebags, but that didn't mean blood was the answer. The Counselor hummed a soft inquisitive breath. He couldn't tell if she was agreeing or disagreeing, and it made him nervous. Nervous made him talk more and the words continued to spill from his lips. He figured here, he could talk as much as he wanted. "And by the way, my dad told me that they found a bunch of pictures of Allison on Matt's computer. And not just of her though, I mean, he photoshopped himself into these pictures. Stuff like them holding hands and kissing, ya' know like he had built this whole fake relationship. So yeah, maybe drowning when he was nine years old was what sent him off the rails, but the dude was definitely riding the crazy train."

Ms. Morrell couldn't help but smile. "One positive thing came out of this though right?"

Stiles nodded. Thinking of his Dad, Sheriff was his life. That at least helped, but it didn't help much. It didn't help the void.. "Yeah. Yeah, but I still feel like there's something wrong between us. Ya know, it's just like tension when we talk. Same thing with Scott."

"Have you talked to him since that night?"

Stiles shook his head. "No not really, I mean he's got his own problems to deal with though. I don't think he's talked to Allison either. But that might be more her choice, ya know. Her mom dying hit her pretty hard. But I guess it brought her and her dad closer." What was he and Scott gonna do about the hunters. Things weren't in their advantage as always. And Allison wasn't exactly seeming to want to be around Scott. And because that now Scott's all kinds of fucked up in the head. He didn't know what the hell to think and where they would take their step next, besides trying to fix things with Derek. And that was totally going swell. He rubbed a hand over his head, "Jackson…" Fucking Jackson. "Jackson hasn't really been himself lately."

Thinking about, "Actually, the funny thing is, as of right now, Lydia is the one who seems the most normal." Ironic as that sounds.

But the next question took him off guard.

"And what about you Stiles? Feeling some anxiety about the championship game tomorrow night?

Chewing on his lacrosse stick absentmindedly, he scrunched his face some. "Why would you ask me that?" He peers down at the mesh in his mouth, "Oh…. uh no. I never actually play. But hey, since one of my teammates is dead and another one's missing, who knows, right?" The optimism in mind always did help.

The Counselor seemed to come with straight-forward words. "You mean Isaac? One of the three runaways. You haven't…heard from any of them have you?"

He straightened his lacrosse stick. A deflection, smooth as cream on the pies that he made for his Pops. He gestured towards her desk with genuine confusion, "How come you're not taking any notes on this?"

"I do my notes after the session."

Not believing, he questioned, "Your memory's that good?"

"How 'bout we get back to you."

Stiles sighs and looks down. This is the part he was internally dreading. The void swelled at the chance to expose itself. To show how ugly he was. How weak he was..

"Stiles…" Hearing his name, he looks back up at her and shakes his head. "I'm fine. Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant overwhelming crushing fear that something terrible's about to happen." He swallowed, biting at his bottom lip.

"It's called hypervigilance. The persistant feeling of being under threat." She explained with ease, her voice sounding so comforting right then.

"I mean, it's not just a feeling though, alright, it's…it's like it's a panic attack, ya know, like I can't even breathe." Panic attacks had been the horror of him when he was younger. The thought of them, his mother, his every displacement in it all was just overwhelming. The sensations were coming back again and it was terrible. He wanted to move forward. He didn't want to step back and fall, and be swallowed up…

He didn't expect her words to seem so knowing. So precise with her chosen analogy.

"Like you're drowning?"

"…Yeah."

"So, if you're drowning, and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that _very,_ _last,_ moment, what if you choose to not open your mouth, to not let the water in?"

He shifted. Uncomfortable for a moment as he shifted, and looks down, confused as his thoughts tried to make themselves certain once more. "You do anyway, it's a reflex."

"But, if you hold off, until that reflex kicks in, you have more time right?" He raises his eyebrows, the thought never really occurring to him. Not realizing that the pessimism was brimming just beneath his flare, "Not much time."

"But more time to fight your way to the surface…"

Frustrated, he shrugged. "I guess…"

"…More time to be rescued."

She wasn't getting it, was she? "More time to be in agonizing pain, I mean, did you forget about the part where you feel like your head's exploding?

"If it's about survival, isn't a little agony worth it?" Still, she challenges his words. She challenges the resolve he made of his thoughts.

"I mean, what if it just gets worse?" He stutters, his eyes looking to her with a pleading eye. Why wasn't she getting it? Did she have an answer? "What if it's agony now and then…and then it's just Hell later on?"

The Counselor's brown face smiled at him. As if she saw something that pleased her within him. Something that he didn't see, "Then think about something Winston Churchill once said, 'If you're going through hell…_keep…going.'"_

_"B-but I can't.." His hand fell against his hands, touching his forehead. He felt the tears welling in his eyes just like before. His chest beginning to rise and fall rapidly, but his breath he tried to keep steady. The Counselor's gentle voice seemed persistent as if she new so much. "Then find away you can.. Make your mark.. "_

_"I can't do what they do… I just can't.." Not even realizing the words slipped so effortlessly from his mouth._

_"You just need a guide.. But, you have to know what you want.."_

_What did he want? There was so many things he wanted right now. He wanted everything to be right. Just everything to be like it was before. Hell, the werewolf business wasn't as bad as this, but each and every day it becoming even more difficult to deal with. The master-brain he harbored could only place him only toe-to-toe with their foes, not ahead. And he surely couldn't do much being all but eighty something pounds and filled with sarcasm. There was no amount of Adderall to make his hands stop shaking. There was no pill that could make his night's sleep well. Nor anything else to make him feel that he could reconnect with his Dad or Scott. He just wanted everyone to be okay. Stiles knew his heart was too big for his immaculate chest. All of these feels were just too much of a burden at a time like this.. Still he couldn't tell want he wanted. Nothing he would ever want would put him in place to make sure things were okay. He didn't know what he wanted.._

_"What do you need?"_

What he needed? He needed to find some way to contribute. He needed some way he could be certain that when he was with everyone. They didn't worry for him, as he did them. They didn't need to defend him, as he wanted to do them.. He needed

"Power."

She smiled then..

"And what would you do with this power..?"

"Help."

"No, what would you?" She challenged once again.

"Protect."

* * *

OH YEA! So like.. The Chap names are my recommendations for musics? Gloomy Sunday - Emilie Autumn cover. And Judith by A Perfect Circle. x:

Hope you like, be gentle with meeeee~


	3. Potential

Also, for the one reviewer, yes it basically was. Just a reverb to give sort of a catalyst of the build.. If you simply give the fic a chance, it'd be appreciated with bunches of cookies and plushies. Also, please don't mind the sort of skip-ish nature of this chapter. Forgive, please?  
Oh, and no song title for this chapter.

* * *

The Counselor had given him the address to Junkyard nearing the outskirts of town. She didn't tell him much, but she said someone there would give him exactly what he needed. She told him that the person that would be his guide would be a bit unorthodox, but they were good a heart. And that his charm would surely get them to take his favor. The counselor told him to visit his Guide immediately – like, this very night, if he wanted training to start smoothly. "Training?" He said. Earning a knowing chuckle from the woman, he groaned and submitted to the idea. What he wanted was being given to him on a silver platter. So, he had to endure a little bit.

Also meant that he had to dodge around Scott for the day, not that his best friend was remotely going to talk to him through his sulking session.

Staring at his open window into the night sky. The moon was just taking its height in the sky and he knew the wolves didn't start running just yet. This gave him a twenty minute window to go on and get ti the Junkyard. _Alright, here we go._ Stiles rounded a leg out his window and he climbed down in the most ungraceful way, he broke his fall with a tumble on his face. Which was awesome, but he got up, durable as his body. He climbed on his bike he parked beneath his window earlier in the day and headed on his way. Not noticing that that a man was staring out from the window. That a worried father was looking to the night sky and making sure that God had the moon as his eye to watch over his son.

The Junkyard journey was a bumpy one. The junkyard for years was like the Hale Forest. No one went there just for no reason. Things weren't exactly pretty to look at. The road after you hit the off-path was shitty and bumpy, there was trash everyway, car parts and dismantled vehicles were everywhere. It was just what you would expect of the Junkyard. The parking lot was at least decent. The road seemed to have been repaved but everything was run down. Like someone had lost inspiration to do whatever they had planned with the place. Not that this was a problem. _Totally would hire the decorator._

Course, the creepy vibe rolling off the area was making him queasy. He had a sensitive stomach. _Oh okay, no I don't but I can be scared. Not that this was any fun._

He stood in the middle of the parking lot for a long time. Not moving, because the occasional noise, the occasional chatter of something in the distance sent a chill down his spin. Stiles clenched the handles on his bike, _No, this bitch did not. She did not send me to some god-forsaken junkyard to be eaten by some junkyard creature. Oh hell no, not my way to go. I'd prefer ripping throats out with teeth than eaten by junkyard people. I-_ Out of the corner of his eye he something glistens. Something metallic. It long, and aluminum, and red, and it was a bat? A baseball bat. There were actually two, one was red and the other was dark color, almost black, but the flickers of light showed the purple hue to it. He didn't know he had stepped towards them till the thuds of his sneakers because suddenly more audible and the jangle of the fence they were perched against moved.

"You haven't earned that."

A voice came from above. "OH SHIT!" He stumbled and fell back. A hooded figure was perched up on the gates. Their voice was feminine, yet so ominous at the same time. Their voice was muffled by something metallic. "I don't appreciate the scaring me half to death! Especially with the whole Darth Vader vibe going on."

"You must be Stiles." He could have sworn he heard the person mumble.

The figure hopped down and crouched right in front of him. He sudden was able to see with the parking lot lights that there were eyes. Bright, nearly silvery coated brown eyes behind a metal mask with slender metal ears, and a elongated shape in the face. It almost looked like a fox. "Not yet anyway.

"What?" Stiles finally coming back to life. And the person stood up with a hand that grabbed his collar, hauling him along up with them. "I said, you haven't earned that.. not yet."

He pulled from her – yea, he could distinguish now, that it was a her – grip and straightened himself up. "What?" She gestured a hand towards the bats.

"Oh." He blinked and shoved his hands into his hoody's pockets. "So, like.. How does this work?"

"We train." She chuckled, a hand raising up and he flinched. "Jumpy?" He cough, playing it off with a rub over his forehead. "Nah, I'm just.. I'm good. So, what it this training?" She continued to raise her hand to take off the metal mask she had over her face. She was actually pretty. Bright brown doe-eyes, dark skinned, possibly shoulder-length hair, maybe shorter, and a soft rounded now. She looked about his age. Yea, she was rather pretty. "You're going to fight me, till about two hours after midnight."

"What?! Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. When this become apart of the memo?" Stiles held out his hands. Watching her nonchalantly loosen the grips of her mask on the back of her head.

She placed the mask down on the ground beside her. "I don't know what my cousin told you. But, I'm going to tell you now.. I don't like quitters and I don't like wasting my time. I can see already, I can train you, but I don't like the whole vibe I'm getting from.." She gestured to him. And he made a face, "You just gestured to all of me."

"Well, that's that. Give me a reason to not to.. Here, I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt because my Pops told me to. I'm going to train you the fastest any of our kind has ever been trained, and you are going to tell me right now if you are going to do it."

Stiles stared at her, "Your Pops?"

"Just answer me. I can give you what you want. I can give you a power, only our kind possess. I'll teach you everything I know. I'm going to be your sister and you're going to be my brother."

His face twisted confused, "Our kind?"

She began to stalk around him and his body move on its own, they began to move in a circling bout like ecstatic cats. One waiting for the other to pounce. Or in this case, Stiles waiting to make sure this mystery woman wasn't going to beat him into the cement. "We're human, but we are not. We are above human strength, human intelligence, human speed, but we have our humanity. We tap into an intricate part of our minds that humanity in its socialization and growth had lock dormant in our mind, not many can access it, but those like you and me, have the ability to. We are ferals. There are those like me.. My troupe before.. We were the generic, we wer- ..I am an Avenger. You.. you are something entirely different.."

Stiles paused in his step, nearly tripping. "What am I?"

Ignoring his question, she continued. "Do you want your power?"

Stiles stared at her, remembering the conversation he had with the Counselor earlier in the day.

"I _need _my power."

A big, shit-eating smile spread of the girl's face as she rolled her shoulders. _Suddenly, I feel I should recede my request. Oh shi-_ "Good. Now, then. Lesson one, Instinct. You're going to fight me. You are going to use everything – except the bats – everything in this junkyard to defend yourself against me. I'm not going to hold back and so are you. Find your feet, find your alignment in your body. Just react. Don't think. Don't speak –"

"You know that's going to be a bit hard for m-"

"Just feel and do. Because the instant you think, I'm going to catch you. And I'm going to hurt you."

"..Why does that sound like you are promising something? And why does that sound like you are going to enjoy this entirely too much?"

"I'ma give five minute head start, pick up something nice."

Stiles couldn't believe this girl. She couldn't be serious.. "Two minutes up." He shook his head and raced off to the large piles of trash across the parking lot. Three minutes before he would be getting his ass handed to him _again_ by a damn girl. He was sure it wouldn't be the last time.

Many hours later the sun rose and the events of the previous evening would still burn in his bones.

This was a hellava way to wake up. As soon as he tried to move, he realized that he couldn't. _Oh, that bitch is crazy. She needs to talk to Counselor, _He groaned. After a bit of kicking himself in the ass, he rolling onto his side. Pain raced through his muscles. How the hell was he suppose to get out of bed like this? But, that didn't matter. What hurt the most was his throbbing head and the fact that he couldn't see out of his eyes. In fact, he couldn't. There was something on his face. Stiles rose a hand to touch his face and found something cold, and wet was over his face. He pulled the cloth off his face. He felt it was no longer swollen or bleeding..

The blood on the cloth jogged his memory a bit.

_"Don't think you could give me a break, I'm only a beginner ya'know? Aren't you suppose to be going easy on me?!" He shouted. Talking was about the only thing he could do at the moment laying on his back. They had been going through a style of pins. Each and every time one would pin the other. Not necessarily, as in a pin being on top of each other. But, where at least one of them would take down the other, some part of their body hitting the ground essentially being the goal. He hadn't gotten one pin yet. He as he predicted with his awesome telepathic powers, he got his ass handed to him one time after the other. The first, she pounced him like he was a damn cat outta the nowhere. The second had been her throwing out his left leg, making him topple over onto his face. The third being her hitting him the face with a car part. Not to mention the other smaller wounds he had earned from her fists and feet. Oh, not to worry. Blood was becoming a normal occurrence between them. Just caught he didn't' take her down, didn't mean he didn't make her bleed. _

_He had gotten her across the head, her temple specifically. Weapon of choice being a rock he picked up trying to escape from the piles in the junkyard._

_While he didn't take her down, he made her stutter and her steps. He actually caught her off guard, which in that moment was a major confidence boast. Of course, this made that grin on her face from before come back. That I-knew-this-was-going-to-be-good shit-eating grin that she gave when they first started. Next take down she had simply swept his feet from under him and his back was where he landed. And now that was where he was._

_"C'mon, you know its fun." He heard her say from above him. She had somehow, soundlessly made her way over to him and crouched over him. _

_"Says the cra-cra bee, that has given me so far: a black eye, a busted lips, crooked jaw, a blown-out knee, dislocated sho-"_

_"Its not dislocated." He glared at her, "Doesn't matter. Dislocated shoulder, cuts across my face, tore up my jeans, messed up and tore one of my favorite red flannels, I mean shit. Just kill me off why don'tcha, just make sure you tell Scott and the rest of the puppies, that they better be good. And I'm watching over them from Heaven and that amazing cookies are there. Wait, are you averse to werewolves?" _

_"No. And no, I'm not killing you off. Get up, we'll try something different. We got an hour." She grabbed him by his collar and hauled him up to his feet. She guided them over to the open space of the parking lot. Movement could be see and he was free from her using the clutter around them to her advantage._

_"So, we wasted about.. seven hours and dedicated them to kicking my ass. Are you sure we haven't met before? The feel of a streak of vengeance in all this is blatant. Look, I'm sorry if I did anything to hurt your feelings before. OW!" She punched him in his shoulder and with the opportunity of his open mouth, she stuck a capsule in his mouth and he nearly choke. And he forced himself to swallow. "What the holy hell?!" _

_"It'll make your wounds heal by morning. Anyway, we're going to do hand to hand combat.. accessing your feral nature through panic is obviously not working. So, we are going to try another approach. Besides, you have been running away from me.. You haven't been fighting me." She lifted her fists in front of her._

_"Is that the signal to put my dukes up?" She simply stared at him. "You're serious?"_

_"C'mon, Stiles. Only got an hour." _

_He groaned and lifted his weighty arms up. They felt like they were going through sludge. He was sure he couldn't do anymore. "Alright.. Let's get this going." And then it happened again. A bout of her not speak, her just throwing out punches, kicks, and flurry of movements that he couldn't predict, he couldn't see. Until of course, one of them catch him in the right cheek and he was sent on his ass. "Get up." She growled, displeased. And he groaned, rolling onto his stomach to spit out blood pooling in his mouth. "One sec." He pushed off the ground and stood back up. _

_"Stop trying to track my movements. And just react. React."_

_He groaned and went back to his sluggish posture from before. He caught her eye watching his dance from her hands to her feet to see what she would do. Instead, she surged forward. She gave him no hands or feet, but a head-butt. "React to me!" She shouted, and as he stuttered in steps backwards, she sent a fist reeling towards his face. He didn't know what it was. He didn't know where it came from but he just felt tired. Perhaps he was tired at everything, but more importantly this. Getting something right, he was always a step behind. And it was irritating, frustrating that he couldn't help but growl. So close to a wolf that he didn't know it came from himself for a moment. But, his eyes widened. The fist was becoming inches from his face. Everything seemed like it was going in slow motion yet it wasn't. He could just see. Now, he could see. He __moved__. His palm smacked outward against the side of the fist, and he ducked down and swung his lean form behind her. His open palm switched so smoothly into solid grip that he locked the appendage around her back and he restricted her movements. _

_"Whoa." Just realizing what he did. He smiled as he heard her release a proud snort. "G'job. But, we ain't finished."_

_"Now, we got you into this state.. I'm going to make sure you'll never come out of it. After this, there is no turning back. This'll be you, forever." _

_He pushed her away so she turned around to face him. "I told you. I want this."_

_"Good." She was on him like a bee to honey. Her fist were unrelenting in their speed. But, he could see. Oh, how he could see. His Guide seemed almost ecstatic watching him, she watched him dodge a good majority of her moves, her fists, her twists. His movements were fueled by this jittery jerk in his torso and his feet didn't stutter anymore, they were moving in sync with the sway of his torso. So busy analyzing his progress ( which she didn't tell him was going along quite smoothly ) added by his feral that she didn't watch herself. He did something daring. He swung under one of her arms, yet one of his swung upward, hooking their elbows and sent them spiraling downward. But, a pivot in his toes as he turned them onto his back and she had her head into a sleeper hold, her face heading towards the ground. He was unknowing in the fact that she had been holding back a good bit, hiding the durability in their expendable nature. She tucked her knee upward with a swing of her feet and leaned towards him. Fudging his grip and leaving him to still fall, with the brunt of their weight on top of him. On his head. _

_The thud of his head on the ground made her blink. "Oh shit. Stiles!" She rolled him off his side and saw he was unconscious. Smiling, but still rather unconscious._

"The bitch knocked me out."

He lifted off his bed after a moment. Where he was facing, was his night stand he saw two pills and note. It read,

"Stiles,

You progress is going smoother than I originally anticipated. I didn't get to tell you because you knocked yourself unconscious- 'Yea, right' – But, you're going to move with me.  
I know it must be sudden, but you are not going to be gone for long. You'll still be able to see your friends, your family, go to school, but you're going to live with me for a two weeks.  
A week for training, and a week for experience. Please trust me. The pills will help you get through the day, just make sure you eat a lot.. I'll see you at your game.

Leave a bag of what you would like to bring along beneath your window before you leave.

Sincerely,  
M."

All of this made things seem all the more real now. But, this was want he wanted.  
Maybe not the muscles pain though.. Where were those pills?


End file.
